What Makes A Man
by hatchlingpendragon
Summary: In some cases, pain was progress. This might not have been one of those cases. Rated for a reason, dear readers.


It seems my colleagues often vonder vhat fuels my fervor for my vork. (Never openly, of course, never vhen zhey thought I'd hear zhem, and I vould respect zheir reserve, zheir...tact.) Had I been as uneducated as zhey, I might have questioned myself too.

But really, sometimes I vonder...vhat did drive me?

Interest? Most certainly.

Science? Indeed, a modicum of professionalism has to be maintained. After all, it is von of zhe bases for my vork.

Fascination? . . . Perhaps. Some of my colleagues vould question zhe border between fascination and obsession. And who am I to argue? I am more into zhe physical aspects of 'medicine' zhan zhe psychological. (Neurological sciences, zhough, those are next on my list.)

Nein, fascination seems too...crude of a vord.

A better term might be, eh, dedication. Devotion. Reverence.

I am a _good _Doctor. My vorks knit flesh and bone, restore zhe body anew.

My knowledge and zhe Engineer's ingenuity had built zhe Respawn, ja?

Is zhat really so surprising?

Could someone really think a mere _mechanic _singlehandedly (heh, pardon zhe pun) constructed a device to rebuild a body from zhe atoms up?

(Zhat hand zhough, zhat mimics a crude structure of bone and tendon, so intriguing, I vould have to study zhat as vell.)

It is, vas, vas so much more zhan punching in who vould go through zhe system, more zhan a silly blood sample, more zhan DNA.

Zhere vere raw 'materials' required as well, or zhe knowledge of zhose materials.

Zhe transcription of zhe entire recipe of a human body into zhe language of a computer.

Only _I _could have provided zhat knowledge for zhe Engineer!

Bone density, bone marrow, zhe flesh, zhe organs, not to mention all of zhose delicate little synapses.  
Zhe balance of calcium, proteins, nutrients, _iron_...

It took near on a veek to teach some computer zhe composition of von type of blood! Zhat had been a good veek!

Zhe credit for zhe Respawn vould alvays go to zhe Engineers, of course. But I found I didn't mind so much. I like to celebrate my success, my...my magnum opus, in my privacy, vith my little lieblings. Archimedes, bless his little avian heart, is zhe most nosy, but I vas glad to find a comrade to share my interests. Even if zhe interests in zhe organs do tend to differ slightly between us. Eh, diversity can lead to unity!

And lately, of course, I'd been enjoying zhe benefits of my success. And how else? Vith more study!

It is a private project, of course. It vas enough zhat my ozher 'comrades' vould have zheir petty little opinions of me behind my back.  
I didn't vant zhem to criticize my projects, too. It isn't in zhe perimeters of my contract, but vhat vould zhe Administrator understand?

And zhe Heavy? If he saw anyzhing, sees anyzhing, he doesn't say anyzhing, and I appreciate zhat. He is...a good man.

He may not understand, but he vill, some day, maybe...

Still, vhat does he expect? I am a _mercenary. _Same as zhem. Zhough my revards are...more zhan monetary, vhen I have my vay.

Ah, but, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Vhat _is _my revard, do you ask?

Vell, heh, little secret of mine, ja? A little...indulgence, but...

Computers, heh, vonce you use von is pretty easy to use again, hm?

All of ze raw materials, right zhere in zhose heathenly bland numbers, all zhose zeroes and vons, literally at my fingertips!

At first, vhen I vas taking full advantage of zhe virtual immortality of my comrades (and, of course, a little bit of deleting in zhe hippocampus) I'd see how much it took von to die, I'd test death, no, not death, I'd test _life_, in all of its matters, and never run out of control groups!

And zhen, after zhe experiments began to stagnate, I discovered an alternate field of study, an alternate method...

Is easy, you know, incredibly easy, to have all zhe ingredients, and simply change around zhe order, zhe balance, of zhe original recipe...

I do not even have to use my comrades any more, or vipe zheir memory! I can copy—_zat!_—and vonce I am done, heh, control, alt, delete!

All zhe results, saved and recorded, all of zhe experiments, theorised, hypothesized, exercised, and vitnessed!

And of course, make sure zhe computer history shows nozhing, ja?

I vould not like to subject myself to an uncontrolled study of zhat mechanical hand.

Examples? Vould you like examples?

Take, for instance, zhis: how large can you make a man before he crushes or suffocates under his own veight?

How long can he live? How much vould he need to eat?

Or zhis: vhat happens if a man has no joints, all fused? Or no cartilege? No tendons? Oh, zhat did such _interesting_ things to zhe spinal cord!

Oh, oh, oh, or, how separated can a man be (skin from flesh, flesh from bone, and so on) until he can no longer live?

Vhat if you attempt to increase brain efficiency and capacity by having it be a layer unto itself, anyvhere possible?

(Zhe amount of spare space in a body vas a study in itself!)

And no doubt you are zhinking: but Doctor, you are a _Doctor! _Your vork is _healing_, how does zhis help it?!

Of course, as I have said, zhis is an indulgence, but it does aid my vork.

Zhe practice of medicine is a two-sided coin, mein Freund.

Cutting corpses to discover vhat had been in life, exposing vons to disease to find zhe cure.

Medicine is a science zhat is built on destruction and recreation! Vhat can be gained if ve do not see how much can be lost?

Sometimes things need breaking before zhey can be fixed, ja?

And of course, sometimes I find I just like zhe hurting. Zhere I can agree vith my comrades zhat it is slightly...unprofessional.

But, eh, vhat can you do? Ha! Ha!

Oh, speaking of vhich, zhis next zhing vill be a good von: can zhe human body be turned completely inside out?

You know, you know, skin on zhe inside, followed by zhe muscle, zhe vessels, zhe tissues, zhen zhe bones and organs!

Of course, it can't do zhat and be expected to survive, the design is simply not practical. And I don't plan it to be! I just vant to see it!

I've got a nice little zhing zhat vill keep the body 'running' long enough, too, along vith some structures for support!

Vas a bit of trial and error, I'll admit, but vhat isn't?

Zhank you, by zhe vay, for listening. Zhat really helped me put my thoughts in perspective.

I'll put zhat in your results, ja? Zhis is memorable, not part of zhe actual experiment, but memorable, I appreciate zhat.

Of course, zhis means I'll have to Respawn you again, your template's been zhe best so far for zhese kinds of experiments.

Fortunately, you vill not remember zhis conversation.

Heh, ve keep zhis between ourselves, ja?

Vell, zhat's enough talking. On to zhe procedure!

* * *

**This next part can really be a sort of 'sequel', doesn't need reading. But read if you want!  
**

* * *

He walked around idly, taking his time, taking care not to slip. The well-lit room was white, white, white, but the walls, ceiling, floor, and even the air were taking on a pinkish tinge, with the finest of mists. He breathed in deeply, slowly, the sharp tang of iron hitting the back his throat and nasal passages.

He grinned, somehow the whiteness his teeth surviving the mist.

Distribution of the vessel system, of course, having no flesh to go into, simply goes into the air. It...it was just so _clean _in its complex simplicity...

This was a particularly marvelous piece of work, if he had to pat himself on the back.

He wiped the light film of pink from his glasses to see it better.

This was taking a bit from the 'separation' experiment, but whatever works!

It was...it was truly beautiful. He could see it all working, right there.

He had thought, for a moment, that he had simply wanted to structure it into a condensed package, as close to the original volume as possible.

But that wouldn't have been taking advantage of the sheer artistry.

Of all his works, this one had to be his most intricate.

Towards the walls, the bones hung suspended, cleanly halved where needed and gently spread to mimic an exoskeleton should it be applied.

The blood vessels and arteries hung like a thinking web around the room, tenderly attached and threading into the bones and inward, swinging and jumping subtly in time to the blood that still rushed through and out into the room, connected to everything.

The organs had been tricky, but he'd settled for having the majority of them carefully slung into different parts of the separated ribcage, with the intestines trailing down and around into a sort of fleshy spiral. (He couldn't help himself, call it artistic license!)

The muscles were the most fun, if he had to be honest. Unravelling those layers and layers of tissues, tendons stretching to accommodate, it was sort of like a pink-red umbrella partially spread between the bones. Then it got really interesting.

The nerves. The nervous system had probably been the hardest, the most challenging.

He took every creative, artistic 'license' he could to maintain the most fragile, intricate system. He had wanted this to be _exact_. Arching from the spine that he had deemed to leave intact, it extended bit by bit to every organic component, and had been one of his proudest achievements.  
Finer than spider's thread, and unbelievably _hot.  
_Even now, he watched a muscle here and there _twitch, _contract. He watched a lung inflate, deflate.

One of the eyes caught his attention, gently swinging, unprotected by a socket of bone or a thin film of muscle, already reddening and drying...

He chuckled a bit to himself as the eye twitched towards him, and waved at it a bit, watching the orb jerk to follow the motion, the pupil nervously dilating.

With this, he heard a sharp _pop_, like an eggshell.

And now towards the center, where he kept a few of the most interesting bits.

The brain, he had decided, would be left whole.

It was gray, still slimy, but also drying, and looked rather poetic, hanging up there as a centerpiece.

All of those folds, though, it was a temptation not to unravel them, see how far they could've been strung in his little diorama...

It was hung above something that was positively drab by comparison to the things orbiting it, yet was interesting.

It hung almost obscenely towards the floor, limp and almost pale, but pinkening in exposure to oxygen, this sack of dermis.

It really was essentially a bag, seamless and whole, except for the holes in the necessary places.

Cartilage and the necessary structural organs remained attached to this bag, along the sides where the skull would have been streaked two twin falls of fresh red, the eardrums and cochleae had already burst and shattered. He chuckled, knowing his laugh earlier must have done that.  
It was just so _fascinating_.

The tongue flopped uselessly from where it was still attached, twitching and writhing like the head of a decapitated snake.

It looked so ridiculous he had to laugh again.

And then, he simply took the time to absorb.

The taste of iron and meat and salt, like a butcher shop, yet stale and acidic, like a chemist's lab.

The simple hisses, gurgles, and plops of the organs, liquids circulating.

The slight dripping of blood where the veins had been too fragile, of the entire system throbbing and pulsing to some alien rhythm.

The organic, visceral wheeze of air escaping, replacing, moving...

It was all so incredibly, so fantastically, so beautifully, so _literally __ALIVE..._

And there, towards the center, where a lung was still attached and the cords still structured to enable the necessary function, was the soft, toneless, continuous moan that if in its rightful form might have been a scream.


End file.
